Stripped
by Rhadeya
Summary: What does it take for obsession to turn to murder?
1. Fantasies

Disclaimer: the characters of CSI are owned by people smarter and more talented than me. I'm doing this for fun, not for money, so please don't sue me!  
  
Notes: Evil plot bunnies are hiding everywhere LOL  
  
---------------  
  
The lights in the lab are dimmed as I work; I prefer the darkness to the bright lights that Greg seems to enjoy. A noise slowly worms its way into my consciousness but it takes me a moment to realise what it is. Footsteps. Heels. A woman, walking down the corridor. Careful to keep my head where it is, I slowly inch my gaze up until I can see the glass wall of the lab. Suddenly, there you are, walking past my lab. Your pace slows and you glance in, towards me. I raise my head, making eye contact with you. I want you to come with me, take my hand and leave this place. A smile spreads across your face as you see me looking at you, and you slowly push open the door. Closing it behind you, you walk towards me and reach out, gently running your hand down my face. My arms circle your slender waist, tightening around you and forcing you to step closer. The desire in your eyes tells me you like this; you like me dominating you. I leave one hand pressed against your back, while I move the other one forward, running it over your stomach tenderly. You may have worked out but I can still feel the slight raise in the muscles, the sign of having bourn a child. You're truly a woman, a mother, and now you're all mine. Lowering my lips to yours, I claim your mouth, there's a slight hint of mint I taste when we kiss. I've thought about this moment for months, fantasised about holding you in my arms. Others would say you're not interested but I know differently. I've seen the way you look at me, the hunger in those half smiles you give me. I've watched the way you move, the sensuous swing of your hips when you know I'm watching. I can tell you want me, even though you pretend not to notice me. 

  
I move away from you slowly, watching the pout that pulls at your bottom lip as I loosen my grip on you. You don't notice my hand wrap around the scalpel on the desk, not until I raise it and draw it across your cheek. The look of shock that crosses your face as the blade slices your skin turns me on, making my heart beat faster. I watch, mesmerised, as the blood trickles down your face, dripping onto your pale blue blouse. You pull yourself from my grip, running towards the door, but I'm faster and I reach it before you. You're afraid now; I can smell it all around us, as your eyes dart in all directions. You're looking for a way out, but there isn't one. You're in my world now Catherine, and there's no escape. I want to see you stripped down to the bone, literally. I'm going to peel away your skin, wash away your blood, until I see the pure glimmer of bone. You've taunted me long enough, teasing me with your smiles and your body. Did you think I was blind? Immune to your appeal? Did you believe I wouldn't react to your signals, that I'd turn a blind eye and ignore you? Jaw clenched against the pain, you struggle to free yourself from me, but my grip on you is vice-like. You're staying here, with me, where everything's ours, for a few hours. I'm not going to kill you yet. I want to hear you speaking, just for me. I want to hear you crying, just for me. I want to hear your screams, hear you beg for my mercy.

"Hodges?" A male voice says behind me, snapping me back to reality in a second. Turning, I see Catherine and Gil standing in the doorway, both wearing suspicious expressions.

"Everything alright?" Cath asks quietly, her eyes showing a hint of fear. 

"I'm fine," I tell her, watching them nod and leave the room. Slumping back against the table, I curse silently. I have to be more careful. Was I speaking while I was fantasising? Did they hear? Will things change….?


	2. Lab Explosion

Disclaimer: The characters and lab of CSI are owned by people smarter and more talented than me. I'm doing this for fun, not for any money, so please don't sue me :) 

Notes: I had planned this as a one off, but with almost everyone who's given feedback asking me to continue, I'm gonna try and carry on. Please be aware tho that I have no real idea yet where this is going, guess we'll have to wait and see what evil the plot bunnies come up with next… LOL

Notes on Feedback: As a writer, I am always keen to receive feedback. I want to know what is liked, or disliked, about my stories. Constructive criticism is especially welcomed as it helps me to write better. All I ask is that, when leaving a review, please be mature about it and don't do a "Todd" as no-one likes to be insulted or sworn at. Thanks :) 

  
~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Watching Catherine leave the room, I breathe a silent sigh of relief, as I have done every night for the past week. Although I'm fairly sure she has no idea of what took place in the lab that day, I'm still on edge. She doesn't seem to be treating me any differently, though Grissom has been a little dismissive of me since it happened. I'm furious with myself for being so damn sloppy, though I'm just as angry with her for being so blind. Shaking my head, I turn back to my work, wanting to get Grissom's tests done ASAP. 

Several hours later, I'm so wrapped up in my work that the deafening bang I hear makes me jump, just as the glass front wall of the adjoining room explodes outwards, spraying glass everywhere. Darkness descends on the building for a split second, before the emergency generator kicks in, illuminating the two bodies on the floor in the corridor. One is Sara, and she looks to be a little hurt, but mainly ok. The other isn't moving, the spiky hair helping me to identify the person as Greg, the charring on his lab coat suggesting serious injury. Stripping off my latex gloves, I grab a fresh pair and hurry out to them, kneeling beside Greg and pressing my fingers to his neck. A small sigh escapes my lips as I find a pulse; it's weak and thready but it's there. _"Stupid bastard,"_ the thought runs through my mind before I clamp down on it, knowing I have to concentrate on the situation at hand. 

Laying blame can wait until later.

Droplets of water are soaking into my lab coat as I help Sara to her feet, steering her out of the building and into the relative safety of the parking lot. I may see her as a young upstart with little talent, but she's still one of our team, and she looks so shot away that I can't help feeling a little sorry for her. As we exit the building, I can hear sirens in the distance. I guess the emergency services are on their way. Soon fire fighters are swarming everywhere, sorting out the fire in the lab as paramedics deal with the minor casualties. Standing a few feet from the door, I watch as a stretcher emerges carrying Greg, Grissom at his side. They race off, leaving all of us to wonder what happened, and who's to blame. 

Someone speaks to me but I don't really hear what he's saying, my attention is focused on Grissom as he approaches Sara. The look of tenderness on his face angers me; it's the same look I want to see on _her_ face when she looks at me, the one I dream of every night, the only true woman on the shift. But I know she'll never look at me that way and the knowledge infuriates me. Shaking off the paramedic as soon as he's finished treating the cut on my arm, I make ready to go back to work, knowing questions will be asked, and answers demanded.

Can the evidence say who's to blame?


End file.
